Pres stopped to slip his arm around her. “You have one now.” He eased her closer.
Brooke didn’t resist. Maybe he’s what I need. She hid her face his chest.
Pres kissed her hair. “You’re not alone.”
“Thanks,” she said, stepping back. “I’m a bit shaky.”
“Understandable.”
They continued on their way. Suddenly, a wave of weakness hit her, making her lightheaded. She grabbed his arm and slumped against him.
Pres propped her up. “You’re pale, are you okay?”
“I didn’t eat much today. Just some yogurt.” She rested, leaning on him for a moment, until her strength returned.
Pres tightened his grip and looked at her with concerned eyes. “Let’s get you fed.”
Shadows cast by light from the street lamps emphasized the handsome planes of his face. Moonlight on his brown hair made it shine. She touched his smooth cheek. Peeking up at him, his lips were a whisper away. They looked so kissable, inviting her to taste him.
“Food, first,” he whispered.
She fell in step with him as they covered the last bit of path to The Boathouse. Once they were seated, menus in hand, Pres addressed the waiter.
“My friend isn’t feeling well and needs to eat something. Could you please bring some bread and a Coke right away?” The young man nodded and was off.
“Thank you,” she said then opened the menu. Hunger gripped her, sending pain through her belly. “God, I’m starving.”
“Then eat.”
“What’s good here?”
“I always have a steak. But that’s not girl food.”
“It is for this girl. A steak sandwich would be perfect.”
“Wine?” he asked.
She winced. “I don’t think so. Coke is fine for me tonight.”
“Ah, hair of the dog, eh?”
“Yeah. My Dinner Club group and I kinda tied one on last night.”
“That explains no food today. What’s a dinner club?”
Brooke explained.
The waiter returned. They placed their orders, and Brooke stuffed a piece of buttered bread in her mouth then followed it with a healthy gulp of Coke. The server brought a beer for Pres.
The sugar traveled quickly through her system. She buttered a second piece and munched. The lightheadedness cleared like haze in the sunshine.
“Let’s talk about you. You left your parents place to become a super in the brownstone where you live now? What’s that about?”
“Long story. My father’s a successful investment banker. They have a huge place on Park Avenue. I got tired of them bugging me to go into finance. I’ve always wanted to be a writer, and they’ve always put it down.” He took a mouthful of beer.
“So, you went your own way?”
“I started selling a few magazine articles in college.”
“Oh? On what?”
He blushed. “Nothing I can repeat to you.”
Brooke burst out laughing. “You were writing about sex?”
“Why’s that funny?”
“Because you’re so shy. Did you use a pseudonym?”
“I’m not as shy as you think.” He snickered. “Of course I used a pen name. My parents would have gone ballistic.”
“Sold a few pieces and got bitten by the bug.” She chuckled.
“I had no idea I’d ever sell anything. Stories about a boy’s sexual adventures in college were an easy sell, and sell they did.”
“Were those real stories or made up?” She cast a flirtatious look his way.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He leaned in closer.
She feigned innocence. “That’s why I’m asking.”
“Maybe you’ll find out first hand, one of these days.” A look of lust flashed in his eyes.
“Is that a threat or a promise?”
Pres laughed. “She gives as good as she gets.”
“Continue with your story.” Brooke prepared her third piece of bread.
“My parents were on my case night and day. I’m pretty handy with a screwdriver, so I applied for the super’s job and got it. My folks were appalled. I thought my dad was going to keel over.”
“I’ll bet. College educated son moves into the basement and fixes leaky toilets.”
“You got it. They went nuts. Threatened to cut me off. Everything.”
“They didn’t get it, did they?” She sipped her drink.
“Nope. But you do, don’t you?” He leaned in a little closer.
“Yeah. I do.” Her gaze met his.
“I hate the corporate world and everything it stands for.” He took a gulp of beer.
She chuckled. “And I’m the poster girl for corporate America. What are we doing here together?”
“Looking for a middle ground?”
“Or united by lust?”
Pres smiled then frowned. “It’s not only about sex for me.”
“Oh? Exactly how much of it is about sex?”
He laughed. “You’re a pisser, you know that?”
“Spitfire is a more polite term. And, yeah. I know it. That’s what my dad used to call me.”
“His little spitfire?”
“Bingo.”
The waiter arrived with their food. Brooke dug in as if she hadn’t eaten for a week. The tender, sweet meat tasted delicious.
“This is the best steak sandwich ever.”
“Their steak here is excellent.” Pres’s gaze was warm and friendly, calming her nerves.
They spent a few moments eating and staring. She watched his gaze move down to her cleavage then up to her mouth and stay there. She licked her lips. Tease him a little.
As she chewed, she studied his face. There was a hunger in his eyes for something beyond food. He licked a drop of juice off his bottom lip, and Brooke could swear she felt his tongue on her own. A shiver shot through her. Desire welled up inside, making her want to kiss him.
Brooke wiped her mouth with her napkin and sat back, her stomach full. Calm down, girl.
“Now that you’ve sold your screenplay, do your folks have more respect?”
“They’re still ‘suggesting’ that I leave writing and go into finance. My dad even said that I’d done it, accomplished what I wanted, so now it was time to get serious.”
“I mean, it’s not like you’ve become a professional clown or something.”
He snorted. “It is to them.”
“Foolish people. Can I read some of your stuff?”
“You mean the articles on sex? No.”
“Damn! I was hoping…”
His laugh cut her off. Gazing at him, she saw his smile light up his whole face. Something kind of joyful about him. It made her grin.
“I’ve done a few articles you can read. Or one of my treatments.”
“What’s a ‘treatment’?”
Between bites of steak and broccoli, Pres explained what a treatment was and how it related to a screenplay. Brooke was fascinated. She knew nothing about writing or screenplays, just that she loved romantic movies. Pres’s face became animated when he talked about his story ideas. He stopped staring at her chest and made eye contact. His knowledge and enthusiasm mesmerized her. How wonderful—to do something you love so much.
Unable to finish the huge steak sandwich, Brooke had the leftovers wrapped to go.
“How about ice cream?” Pres asked.
“I’m stuffed.”
“A walk, then?”
“A walk in the moonlight with a guy who writes sex stories? I dunno. Am I safe?”
Even in the dim light, she saw him blush. “I never should have told you.” He shook his head.
Pres paid the check and offered her his hand. They strolled toward Bethesda Fountain. A dozen orange, Japanese lanterns hanging on trees put out a warm glow, lighting the way. At the fountain, Pres whipped out his smartphone and put on some music. Turning up the sound, he faced her.
The Mamas and Papas sang “California Dreami
n’.”
He held out his arms, and Brooke stepped into his embrace. Pres closed his fingers around her hand and folded it into his chest. He pulled her close with an arm around her waist. Brooke cupped her hand over his shoulder and rested her cheek on his shirt. She closed her eyes and flowed with him. As they swayed to the beat, a measure of peace crept into her heart. If I could stay like this forever.
Pres slid his hand down a bit until it rested on her hip. The smell of his freshly ironed shirt and his scent teased her nose. God, he smells good. Her lips brushed his neck accidentally. She smiled when he shivered, feeling her power.
The song ended, and a new one began. They simply kept dancing. Pres let go of her hand and placed his on her waist. She flattened her palm on his pecs and closed her eyes. A few people strolled by, but she never saw them, only heard occasional footsteps. Darkness fell gently, gradually, as it does in summer, and the air cooled.
Pres’s breath warmed her ear as his head rested on hers. Brooke glided with him. She didn’t care who walked by or what anyone thought. She drifted along, totally in sync with his body and the tune. Nothing else existed but the comfort and growing desire coursing through her veins.
When the song finished, she stayed in his arms. If she refused to leave the security of Pres Carpenter, maybe her life would stop crashing and burning around her. He stroked her hair and kissed it. A deep sigh expanded his chest, waking her from her reverie.
“Music’s over, kitten,” he whispered.
“Do we have to stop?” She looked up into his eyes, and he closed his mouth over hers. A light kiss, and then he moved back. What did you stop for? Her body chilled when he removed the warmth of his. She was separate and alone again.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, taking her hand in his then pocketing his phone. “Come on, I promised you ice cream.”
She tugged on his hand. “How about coffee? At my place?”
He stopped short. “Seriously?” He raised his eyebrows, and his eyes glowed.
“Maybe just coffee?”
His face fell for a second then he recovered. “Okay.”
She took his hand as they headed out of the park. Brooke wrapped her shawl tighter and hugged herself.
“Cold?” he asked.
“A little.”
Pres took off his jacket and rested it across her shoulders. She smiled. The garment, which hung down below her rear end, was pre-heated from his body. It shut out the colder air immediately.
“What about you?”
“I’m fine.”
She sidled up to him and snaked her arm around his waist. He took the hint and draped his around her. They walked in silence to her place. Pres filled her thoughts, pushing out anxiety about joblessness and any remnants of feelings she might have had for Lloyd. She quivered as her body bumped up against his.
Chapter Seven
She led him up the two flights to her small apartment. Once inside, Brooke returned his jacket and slipped off her shoes. “Regular coffee? I have some mocha, if you prefer.”
“Either is fine.” Pres hung his jacket on a hook on the door and spread out on the sofa. With his legs far apart, he took up two thirds of the space. Brooke turned on the machine and set out a sugar bowl and milk on the coffee table. As the hot water began to drip, she eased herself down next to him.
“So, do you have any brothers and sisters?” she asked.
“Nope. Only child. You?”
“Same. My parents believed in population control.”
“Two ‘only’ children,” he said, nodding his head.
“Every woman’s magazine says that’s a bad combination.”
“Here’s what I think of that,” he said, leaning over.
His mouth found hers. His kiss was hungry. Heat between them had been growing all evening. Brooke could almost touch it. Now, she could taste it. His tongue swiped across her lower lip, and she opened. He took her mouth as his chest pressed closer to her. He was delicious. She lifted her tongue to meet his. The electricity generated by their tangling flew down her spine and into her center. She pressed her legs together, but it only made matters worse. She wanted him.
Pres broke off, staring at her with lustful eyes. He kissed her cheek then her neck, feathering light kisses down to her shoulder. He slipped the wide strap of her dress aside. She gasped when his lips made contact with the swell of her breast.
Suddenly, he sat up and took a deep breath. “Sorry. You’re tempting. Almost broke my rule. I don’t make passes at drunk women or women who are grieving.”
Don’t stop. “I’m not drunk.” She lifted her gaze to meet his.
“No, but you are kinda grieving. You’re upset. I don’t take unfair advantage.”
“I’m perfectly in control. No need to be condescending,” she sniffed. Come back. Kiss me.
“I’m not. I’m trying to be respectful, not to rush you.”
She laughed. “What if I want to be rushed?”
His eyes widened. “Do you?”
Damn right, I do. She shot a flirtatious look at him then pushed to her feet. “Maybe you should find out.” She headed to the coffeemaker. The heat of his stare warmed her rump.
“If that’s what you want, I’m your man.”
Brooke placed two mugs of the fragrant, steaming brew on the table. Pres added a touch of sugar and some milk to his.
“Is that what you want?” he asked, his gaze locking with hers.
“What’s wrong with wanting to be held all night by a man when you’ve had a crappy day?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” He took a sip.
“If that makes me needy, then maybe I am. Aren’t you ever needy? Don’t you ever want a woman to hold you, lie next to you all night?”
“Every day.”
“So, what’s wrong with that?”
“Not a damn thing. But if a woman’s trading sex for comfort, well…it’s not a good idea.”
“You’re pretty high and mighty for a horny guy.”
“Hey, I’m trying to be the gentleman here. I want a woman to know what she’s doing. No regrets.”
“Because when you disappear the next day, never to darken her door again, she’ll have gone into it with open eyes?”
“Who said I’d disappear?”
“Won’t you? If not, then what’s the big deal? Does every encounter always have to be for the right reasons?”
“I don’t want to take advantage.”
“Fine.” She picked up her mug. The ache inside her quieted down, but didn’t go away.
“I also don’t want to be just any guy. Sleeping with a woman who just wants to get laid and doesn’t remember your name in the morning isn’t my idea of fun.”
“That’s refreshing. Most men would jump at the chance to screw and scram.”
He laughed. “That’s clever. Did you just make that up?”
She nodded.
“Just because some guys are like that, doesn’t mean we all are. Hell, to be honest, I did that in college…”
“And you wrote about it?”
“Yeah. Then I got beat at my own game.”
“Met a woman even colder than you?”
“Ouch! I guess you could put it that way. I’d rather say I met one who didn’t want to know me afterward. That blew my mind.”
“Tit for tat…pun intended.”
Again, he laughed. “You’re pretty good with words.”
“I should be. I majored in English in college.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Why didn’t you say so? Maybe we have more in common that we thought.”
Brooke put her coffee on the table. She ran her finger down Pres’s cheek. “Don’t go away,” she whispered.
“Do you need me?” he whispered back.
Tears filled her eyes as she nodded. Pres’s sweetness had stripped away her defenses. She was armed to fend off a mover, a manipulator, but was blindsided by what she got. “You’re not what I expected…what I thought you’d be
.”
“And what was that?” His voice was soft as he pushed a few strands of hair back from her face.
“One minute, you were part of the wallpaper. I admit it. Maybe I didn’t notice you much because I was with Lloyd. The next minute, pow! There you are, flirting, coming on to me. I thought you’d be more of a mover, a seducer. I was ready for that. Not this.”
“I’m not a kid. I’m a man. I don’t want to seduce a woman. Been there, done that. I want her to come into my bed willingly, gladly.”
“That’s so…unusual.”
“It’s so much more fun that way,” he said, his lips brushing over her jaw, his hand pulling her closer. Chills pebbled her skin. He raised his hand to cup her breast. Brooke let out a low moan as his thumb made contact with her peak through the thin material.
“Should I stop?”
“Don’t you dare,” she whispered.
“Do you want a man to lie next to you tonight?” He nibbled on her ear lobe.
“Yes.”
“Me?” His hand continued massaging her.
She nodded as her breathing became ragged. “You.” Her eyes closed.
“If I’m in that bed, I’m going to make love to you. I can’t resist.”
Her eyes opened wide. “Can’t resist?”
“I’ve been lusting after you for months,” he confessed, his breath hot on her neck.
“You have? How come I didn’t know?” She turned to face him.
“Didn’t think you’d be interested. I’m not a corporate kinda guy.”
“I don’t care.” She was practically panting. Brooke unbuttoned his shirt and moved her fingertips up through his brown chest hair, pushing into his hard muscle. Heat rocketed through her veins to her core. Only having him inside her would put out the fire.
“Enough talk,” he said, reaching for the zipper up the back of her dress. He slid it down slowly, his gaze burning each inch of skin revealed. Brooke watched his eyes, her chest moving faster. He eased the straps down then pushed the bodice off, exposing her.
“No bra?” His eyebrows shot up.
“Not with this dress.”
“Beautiful, gorgeous,” he murmured, staring at her. He licked his lips before he bent to taste her, kissing his way down her neck to her breast. Brooke smoothed his hair down then ruffled it up as he made contact. She pushed his shirt off his shoulders. Pres lifted his head long enough to strip to the waist. Brooke pulled him to her, pressing his chest to hers. He wound his arms around her, drawing her in tight.
Shine Your Love on Me Page 8